


Bring Me To Life

by gold_dust_witch



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Self-Insert, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_dust_witch/pseuds/gold_dust_witch
Summary: All I wanted to do was play Skyrim. Well, I guess I got what I wanted.
Relationships: Aela the Huntress/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Bishop/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Sofia, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Kaidan, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	1. Help, I'm Trapped in an Isekai Fanfic

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me, I'm only human.  
> This...will probably be cringey and lame, but I'm having fun with it and am past the point of caring. I have accepted my destiny of being a loser that writes cheesy self-inserts!
> 
> And for those of you who have read Bound Until Death- I have NOT abandoned it, I promise! I just figured where I left off was a good place to take a little break and start this project. The next chapter for BUD will be up in January, assuming the world hasn't ended by then.

Prologue

My best friend says I try too hard to make my characters hot. I say he just doesn't appreciate the art of Skyrim modding. If I'm gonna sit through animations of my character railing the latest slut follower mod with a totally-immersive strap on, I gotta at least enjoy what I'm looking at. 

My latest creation is without a doubt my best. I sit back on the sofa and admire my work. The long black hair that falls in ringlets over her shoulders, the perfectly plump pink lips, the round green eyes. And of course, the titties. Round and perky. Not too big, not too small. Excellent. 

I can barely keep my eyes open by the time I exit the race menu, configure the mods, and approach the Statue of Mara. Boy, is it past my bedtime, but boy, was it worth it. I scroll through the alternate start choices that I'm all too familiar with before my sleep-deprived brain chooses the most simple thing it can- I am the owner of Breezehome. 

All I'm gonna do is lay in the bed, get to Breezehome, and save. Then I guess I'll actually go to bed. I move my character up the few steps and activate the bed, but the moment I click the button to sleep, the power shuts off, and I'm consumed by darkness.

Super cool.

With a dramatic sigh, I stumble off to bed. It's a good thing I saved after configuring all the mods, or I'd be pissed. 

When I wake up, my room is uncharacteristically dark. The power must still be out. Only...as my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see the subtle moonlight shining from a window that is most definitely not the one in my own bedroom.

I bolt upright in bed. This blanket's not mind. That desk isn't mine. That wardrobe isn't mine. But wait! I still recognize it. The dark wood, the carved pattern...but there's no goddamn way. It couldn't be. But the more I look around (albeit in the darkness), the more I'm able to see that this is the exact master bedroom of Raven's Breezehome, the overhaul mod I have. 

Okay...I'm dreaming. I've got to be dreaming. I've finally achieved lucid dreaming like I've been trying to for ages. I look down at my hand and count my fingers. Five. Okay, so that reality check didn't work. Or did. Whatever. I try pressing my finger into the palm of my hand. It doesn't go through.

Well shit.

That could be a fluke. That had to be a fluke. I try again. Same result.

I've had realistic dreams before. Hell, I have them _often_. But this...this is something else. I slowly swing my legs over the side of the bed and press my feet to the fur rug. God, it feels so real. I inhale deeply, the smell of honey and oak filling my nose.

Okay, new idea. Without a second thought, I slap myself across the face as hard as I can. Ignoring the fact that I am now horny, I can safely say it felt real.

Now, I'm no fool. I've watched my fair share of anime and read my fair share of fanfiction. I am of course familiar with the isekai sub-genre. So _clearly_...this is just a lucid dream. Isekai shit isn't real, duh. AND now I know how to prove it. Summoning all my brain power, I imagine the Gryffindor common room on the other side of my closed door. If I'm gonna lucid dream, you can bet your ass the first thing I'm doing is going fictional world hopping.

Taking a deep breath, I swing open the door and am met with the view of Breezehome's hallway.

MOTHERFU-

* * *

Chapter One- Help, I'm Trapped in an Isekai Fanfic

I sit curled up on the bed well into the morning. Sunlight fills the room, casting light of the familiar details surrounding me. The tables full of books, strongboxes, and gold pouches. The fish tank in the corner. The rugs that litter the ground. I know it all so well, and yet it seems so foreign.

Finally, I creep out of bed and to one of the windows, following the sound of bustling activity. There she is- Whiterun. Objectively the best city in Skyrim. Golden rays of sunlight stream between clouds and highlight the people going about their lives. People I recognize. God, this is fucking weird. I see Jenassa, in all her modded glory, exit The Drunken Huntsman, carefully shutting the door behind her. Idolaf strolls down the street towards Warmaiden's, no doubt to put in the order for the Imperial swords. Braith and Lars run past as they play tag.

This is just crazy. That's it. I've lost my mind. Well, even if I'm crazy, I'd be even crazier to sit panicking in my room when I could be exploring one of the fictional worlds I've wanted to go to the most. What am I wearing? Miner's clothes? Yeah, that's good enough. I comb my fingers through my hair and bound down the stairs and to the front door. 

Lesson one: The right weather mod or ENB can trick you into forgetting that Whiterun is in fact cold, even if it doesn't accumulate snow. 

I would gauge it to be around fifty to sixty degrees or so. Maybe that's warm to some people. I am not one of those people. The moment I step out into the streets of Whiterun, I can feel my body clench in response to the chill. A gust of wind blasts me and sends a shiver down my spine and throughout my whole body. But, well, I'm gonna have to get the fuck over it soonder or later.

I take a bold step further and let my feet lead me deeper into town. Jenassa has taken up residence at her usual post outside of Belethor's store, looking even more gorgeous than in the game. May because she's, ya know, not animated now. She turns to me curiously, and I clear my throat. "Good morning," I squeak before continuing on to Fralia's jewelry stand. 

"Good morning, dear," Fralia says with a smile. "New in town? I saw you come out of Breezehome. About time somebody moved in there."

"Uhh yeah, I just arrived last night." Oh fuck yeah. It just occured to me that I'm a homeowner in this universe. "My name's Ann...wyn." New world, new me.

"Pleasure to meet you, Annwyn. I'm Fralia. If you need any steel, my husband's the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim."

I smile as I run my finger gingerly over a gleaming ruby embedded in a silver amulet. "Damn right he is." Fralia cocks her head to the side, and my eyes widen. "I've heard all about Eorlund Gray-Mane's legendary smithing and his beautiful wife who sellf his jewelry in the market of Whiterun, so I put two and two together," I say quickly, and Fralia's heart visibly melts.

"Well aren't you the sweetest thing! I'm so glad you moved here. Divines know we could use more kind souls in this town, she says, casting a glance at Olfrid and Idolaf Battle-Born coming down the steps from the Wind District. 

Ah, here it comes. The moral dilemmas. I feel my mouth open, wanting to tell her her son is still alive, that her suspicions of the Battle-Borns are correct...but I can't. If I tell her, she'll ask me to get him. There's no chance I'd survive Northwatch Keep. And if I don't go, Avulstein will go on his own. I've only done that quest a couple of times, but I don't remember that being an option, so God only knows how well _that_ would turn out.

No. It's probably best if I act on my game knowledge as little as possible. I don't want to mess shit up if I don't know what will happen. 

I smile at the grieving mother sadly. "There's plenty of good things and good people in the world. Things will get better. I promise." Why can't I keep my mouth shout? Now I have to learn to fight so I can save Thorald, or I'll be Skyrim's biggest asshole. 

Fralia blinks up at me, her eyes becoming glossy. She opens her mouth to speak, and panic sets in. I've already said too much. "I've gotta go run some errands. Have a lovely day."

I zip past other residents of Whiterun and up the stairs leading to the Wind District. And there it is. Jorrvaskr, towering and proud on its hill. I can't help but freeze in my tracks to admire it. In all honesty, the Companions questline is pretty fucking dull, but that didn't stop it from being one of my favorite factions. I don't think anything in Skyrim made me more sad than Kodlak's death. Aela is naturally one of the best vanilla followers. And Vilkas and Farkas are the third and fourth hottest vanilla NPCs. At least out of the males. 

Speak of the fucking devil.

Both brothers round the corner from behind Jorrvaskr, causing me to leap out of my skin. My feet scramble to get me out of their line of sight, where I can feel Vilkas' scrutiny and Farkas' curiosity. They're so pretty, I wanna cry. 

I pass the Hall of the Dead and instinctively turn as I approach the Battle-Born home. Let's see how many mods made the switch with me. Sure enough, a tiny strongbox sat against the back wall of the house. I pop open the lid and tentatively pull on the fabric that sits on top. Out comes Ciri's armor from the Wild Hunt DLC. Excellent. I pull out more and more pieces that could not naturally all fit in the miniscule box. But I guess there's nothing about this experience that's 'natural'. 

Even more bizarre (although not really) is the way I manage to fit it all into my pocket. Giddy and unable to keep the grin from my face, I run back to Breezehome and try on my new clothes. Yennifer's armor is what I of course settle on. Dark and witchy, just the way I like it.

I head back out and am once again blown away by the sight of Whiterun. My feet carry me to Adrianne Avenicci, and I silently and nervously watch as she strips leather from the tanning rack. "Good morning," she says, throwing me a friendly smile. "What can I do for you?"

I take a deep breath. "I heard Idolaf requesting a large order. Need any help around the forge?"

Adrianne looks up and smiles at me again with a mixture of surprise and gratefulness. "You're a smith?"

"Well...no," I say sheepishly. But I'm a quick learner. I just know you said you couldn't do it on your own, so I figured I'd offer to help."

"Hmm, I'll tell you what. We'll do some basics together and see how you do." My heart leaps in my chest, and I involuntarily clap my hands. "Thank you so much!" Smithing has always been one of my favorite skills in Skyrim, and I made it a point in all of my playthroughs to level it up as much as I could in the beginning.

"Ha, I like your enthusiasm. First thing's first, let's get you an apron and gloves."

"There we go," Adrianne says, gently laying a wet rag on my arm. "Don't let it discourage you. I have my own fair share of scars from the forge." 

I nod, my teeth biting into my lip as I force myself not to react to the pain. This _definitely_ doesn't feel like a dream. "Sorry I'm such a wimp," I say with a shaky laugh.

"Wimp?"

"Uhh milk-drinker."

"Ah, I see. No need to apologize. You're doing great. Keep practicing, and you'll make a fine smith one day. It's getting late though. Let's call it a day, rest that arm, and we can get back at it tomorrow if you'd like."

Tomorrow. As the sun sets below the walls surrounding Whiterun, I have to wonder what tomorrow will bring. Will I still be here? Will I wake up in my own bed at home? I guess either way, it doesn't affect my answer.

"Sounds great."

The Bannered Mare is packed full of patrons, and I'm loving it. I sip at a bitter mead as I watch everyone talk and sing and dance until someone catches my eye. Neeshka. 

Oh man. Ohhh man. That's right. I've been so zeroed in on the excitement of simply existing in Skyrim that I've been sleeping on so man possibilities. Bishop. Casavir. Cael. Kaidan. Amalee. Sofia.

As the people of Whiterun enjoy their evening, a grin slowly spreads across my face. I think I'm gonna like it here. 


	2. Existential Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I'm gonna live in Skyrim now, I guess I should stop being such a pussy so I can actually get out and adventure. How hard can it be to learn to be a badass? Oh...pretty hard.

Day two.

If I'm being honest, I didn't expect to wake back up in Breezehome. But that's where I am? Is this real life? Do I actually live in _Skyrim_ now? Will I ever see my family again? Are people looking for me? What about work? What will they tell my students? Is there any way back? Do I _want_ to go back? Will I even survive here? I wasn't being modest when I said I was a wimp. How the fuck am I supposed to kill bandits? How the fuck am I supposed to kill _dragons_?

Oh. Oh god. Am I the _Dragonborn?_

The sun has almost reached its peak in the sky by the time I drag myself out of bed and next door. "You're up late," Adrianne remarks as she tempers a blade at the grindstone.

"Sorry. I...moving here has been hard."

Adrianne sheathes the sword and places it in a stack with some others. "You're not leaving, are you? I was looking forward to the help," she says with a smile.

I smile back but feel a pain in my chest. "No, I don't believe I am."

We work until the sun begins to set, and as we prepare to close up shop, Idolaf strolls over. "You're gotten more done than I expected in two days," he says pleasantly, picking up and examining a sword. 

"Well, I've apparently gotten myself an apprentice," Adrianne says with a nod towards me.

"Wait, really?" My heart skips a beat in my chest.

"Of course. What else do you think this has been? You've been helping so much, you may as well be compensated for it," she says, laughing.

I made a good call configuring the Trade and Barter mod to give blacksmiths max gold. For my two days of work, I earned five hundred septims, and I'm certain it would not have been that much if Adrianne had the measly vanilla amount. 

But I can do better than that.

After Adrianne heads in for the night, I flip through her book of crafting recipes until I find what I'm looking for- the Jedi bag. Only requiring one piece of leather and one leather strip, but worth 1929 septims. Sells to vendors for six to eight hundred depending on your Speech skill. Quite a drop, but still great for how little it takes to make. I pop these out like baby bunnies when I need to max out Smithing and/or get loaded. Let's see how well that works now.

Several days pass in this fashion, and I quickly earn enough gold to splurge on one of my favorite things. I enter The Drunken Huntsman and spot Lindsay, the airbrushed, anime-looking vendor added by my favorite armor mod. "What can I do for you?" she asks.

"What do you have for sale?" I know full well what she has for sale.

I leave the tavern clutching my purchase to my chest and skipping to Breezehome, too giddy to even put my things in my black hole of a pocket. This is my first step to begin adventuring. Over the past week or so that I've been here, I've gotten friendly with Freya, the mod-added second daughter of the Gray-Mane family. After I expressed the desire to adventure but the fear and lack of battle skills stopping me, she generously offered to remedy that.

The next day, I make myself a Gondorian Bow and plenty of arrows to go with it after Adrianne finishes up for the evening. She's fine with me using the smithing things for whatever as long as I'm careful and clean up when I'm done. 

Freya waits for me in The Bannered Mare, as has become our custom, and a joyful grin spreads on her face as she eyes my new gear. "Look at you! Ready to start training tomorrow then?"

"Yep," I say, taking the tankard of mead she passes to me. "Adrianne says it's alright if I take afternoons off so I can train with you, so we're good to go."

"Cheers, I'll drink to that, bro," she says in her thick Nordic accent, and I choke on my bitter mead laughing. "Did I do it right?"

"You sure did," I say, coughing. "Just not used to hearing...people in Skyrim talk like that."

She chuckles. "Your home has such a strange way of speaking."

"I guess." I take another sip, involuntarily cringing at the taste I still haven't grown used to. "Better alcohol, too. Granted, I wasn't much of a drinker, but we at least had plenty of clean drinking water. There aren't many options here. But our alcohol? Yum. I miss cocktails. Mead and ale are gross.

"Whoa there, don't make me call you a milk-drinker," she teases.

"I _am_ a milk-drinker. Listen, a vodka and cranberry has enough alcohol to match five bottles of Honningbrew Mead, _and_ it actually tastes good.”

”Well, if you ever go back home, take me with you so I can try it.”

If I ever go back home. 

”So! What are we going to start with tomorrow?”

Freya smiles and downs her mead. “Probably strength training. You’ve got to be _much_ stronger to handle any type of weapon in a fight. But since you’re so small as it is, you’ll probably want to stick with light armor and one-handed weapons anyways. Stealth will be your best friend.”

”Excellent,” I say with a maniacal grin.

”Annwyn, no. Look.” Freya takes my fallen dagger from the ground and mimes blocking her slicing sword with it. “You _have_ to block with the base of the blade or you _will_ be disarmed.”

I take a deep breath as she hands me back my weapon. “Alright. Okay. Ready.”

She brings her sword down again. I move to block it, but as I see her blade swiftly approach the general area of my hand, I flinch away. Her sword whacks the tip of my dagger, sending it to the ground once again. 

” _Fuck,_ ” I growl. “Fuck it. Fuck Skyrim, fuck adventuring. Imma be a tavern whore instead and kill myself at the ripe ago of twenty-five.” 

”Freya.” The deep voice behind me instantly makes my blood run hot. “Step aside. Let me have a try.”

Before I know it, I’m face to face with Vilkas, who eyes me up and down before taking a one-handed sword from Freya and pulling a dagger from his belt. “You’re afraid of the blade hitting your hand instead of your weapon. Yes?” I hesitate momentarily before nodding, keeping my gaze locked on his stormy gray eyes. “Well, good news. You don’t need to worry about that anymore. Instead, you need to worry about _this._ ” He flips the dagger in his left hand, graceful as a...fuckin’...I dunno, swan or something I guess. “If my sword disarms you, I plunge this knife into your heart.”

My eyes widen, and I instinctively take a step back. “Nuh-uh, I’m calling bullshit.”

”Are you calling me a liar, whelp?” he asks as he takes a step towards me, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

”Well I ain’t calling you a truther.”

His brow furrows, and he takes another step. “You really do speak so strangely. Raise your weapon.”

Shaking slightly, I obey. Wait, what the fuck am I doing? This is just like firing a gun when I started. I used to flinch every time I pulled the trigger because I would anticipate the recoil, and it fucked up my aim. I got over it, and I’ll get over this. 

Vilkas raises his sword and brings it back down, but I keep my limbs firmly in place. The blades make contact with a sharp clang, and for a moment, I think I may be disarmed anyway. But I’m not. With every ounce of strength I can muster, as little as that may be, I manage to hold my position until Vilkas pulls the sword away. 

”Better. Next time I won’t go so easy on you,” he says. He pauses, looking at me carefully before stepping in closer. “There are countless things in the world that will not hesitate to slaughter you. A lost hand is better than a lost head,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice before awkwardly patting my shoulder and walking into Jorrvaskr. 

I watch him disappear through the doors and quietly echo his words. “Next time.” 

When I turn back to Freya, she’s watching me with a smirk. “Shut up,” I mutter, and she bursts out laughing.

”Elbow up,” Freya snaps. I lift my right elbow and realign my aim to the center of the target. “Good. Draw. And...loose!” 

My fingers release the arrow, and it flies through the air, falling just short of the target. “Where’s Chris Pine when you need him?” I sigh.

”Make sure to pull the string-“

”All the way back to get the most power out of my bow. Yeah, yeah.”

I nock another arrow without being prompted and draw quickly. I’m angry now. I’m angry that I’m so fucking weak. I’m angry that my life literally depends on this. 

And my anger drives my arm back further than I thought I could. I release the shot, and it lodges itself slightly below and to the left of the bullseye, and with that, I’m satisfied. 

”Good! Again,” I hear Freya say over the blood pounding in my ears.

I do it again. And again. And again. Over time, my shots drift closer and closer to the center as I grow familiar to the feel of the bow. By the end of the day, my aim still isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s good enough for me to feel somewhat competent. 

”Freya. Annwyn.” 

These guys have _got_ to stop catching me off guard, or I _will_ have a heart attack. 

Aela’s voice stops me and Freya as we’re about to leave Jorrvaskr’s training yard. I turn to see her standing on the porch, looking as fierce as ever. “Aela. How are you, friend?”

”Just find, sister. Had a good hunt today. We were just about to eat and have some drinks if you’d like to join.”

”Absolutely!” Freya grips my upper arm and steers me around as my breathing picks up pace. 

”Uhh Freya....”

”Relax. They wouldn’t invite you if they didn’t want you there,” she whispers. “I’ve been friends with all for years. Honor is important to them.”

I swallow the excessive amount of saliva building up in my mouth and nod. The few steps up to the porch seem to stretch forever and feel wobbly, although I doubt that’s any fault of the architecture. My legs seem more sus than the stairs themselves. 

Cheers and singing greet us on the other side. All of the esteemed Companions are there, of course. I’ve met them by now, but seeing them in Jorrvaskr is mind-blowing. Even more astonishing are the smiles on most of their faces when they see us. Soon, an ale bottle is thrust into my hand, and I’m led to a seat at the long table between Freya and Vilkas. 

”I uh...saw you training out in the yard,” Vilkas says to me over the ruckus, shifting in his chair. “You’re doing well. Improving quickly.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Thanks. Not as quickly as I’d like, though.”

Vilkas chuckles and runs a hand through his black hair. “If I’m being honest, I thought you would give up after a week. It’s been almost a month, though, and you’re still out there every day until the sun goes down. That in itself is impressive.”

A month? Is that how long it’s been? Christ. I sigh and chug half of my ale. I need to be drunk if I’m gonna handle more socialization. 

”All my life, I’ve always wanted to be somewhere like Skyrim,” I admit. “Where I’m from, there’s this...story called Beauty and the Beast. One of my favorites. The main character, Belle, sings this song where she says ‘I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell.’ That song...it’s how I’ve felt my whole life. You know what I mean? It’s like there was this physical pain in my chest constantly because of how much I just _craved_ that. Now I’m here. And I’m not gonna give up the opportunity to adventure like I’ve always wanted, no matter how long it takes to get prepared for it.” With a deep breath, I chug the other half of my ale and start on a second. “I dunno, sorry. That probably sounds lame.”

”’Lame,’” he says with another small chuckle. “Such strange words. It doesn’t sound ‘lame’ at all. It’s rather...endearing....” Is he blushing? What the fuck? Now I’m blushing. Shit. “Anyway, uh...your determination is admirable. And Skyrim is certainly a good place for finding adventure.” 

”You’re damn fucking right it is,” I say around a mouthful of venison, and Vilkas snorts on his drink. “I love Skyrim. I can’t wait to go everywhere. Especially the Rift. It’s always been my favorite hold. Everyone says Riften is the worst city in Skyrim, but I love it. Markarth is a million times worse. Like, sure, Riften is corrupt and basically owned by Maven, but the Silver-Bloods are so much more corrupt and selfish. At least Maven gets shit done.”

Warmth is rapidly spreading through my blood as the alcohol takes over. Am I aware that I’m drunkenly rambling? Yeah. Do I care? Not particularly. 

”You...know a lot of details of these places for never having been to them.”

I wiggle my finger in front of his nose until an excuse finds me. Scratch that, reverse it. “I read a lot! Ha, fuck you!”

Vilkas is so pretty. 

”You don’t handle your alcohol very well, do you?”

”I handle it just fine, thank you very much,” I say, reaching for a third bottle, but Vilkas snatches it from me. 

”Perhaps you should eat some more before having another drink.”

”Aw, you stick in the mud,” Torvar slurs, slinking up behind us. “Let the girl drink. She’s earned it after spending all that time working with Freya _and_ Adrianne.”

”Yeah, Vilkas, let the girl drink,” I chime in as I grab _his_ drink. He took mine, it’s only fair. 

”HA! I like this one. You let me know if an Amulet of Mara comes your way.”

My back straightens as I stare into the distance with a small smile. “No, I don’t think I will.... FUCK!”

”What? What is it?” Vilkas asks, looking almost worried. He should be. 

I look at him through my misty eyes. “I’ll never see a new Marvel movie!” I finally say with a sob. “The MCU was going to shit anyways, but it still sucks. I can’t even rewatch the good ones. I’ll never see Loki or Nat or either Peter or any of them again! This fucking blows!”

”-And I’ll never see if Johnny got justice or any new Disneyland rides or how The Mandolorian ends or if Elder Scrolls VI is any good or a buggy mess like Skyrim.”

”We don’t have that many bugs.”

My eyes fly open, and I lean my head up from Vilkas’ lap to look at a confused Farkas. Wait, my head’s on Vilkas’ lap? Eh, it’s cozy. “No yeah totally. Yeah no no yeah no yeah yeah no.” I lay back down and nuzzle my thigh pillow. 

”Perhaps you’d prefer laying in a bed,” Vilkas says with only mild stuttering. 

”Nah, this is fine. I always thought you were secretly a big teddy bear. Or teddy w-...waffle. Whew, that was close.” I burst into a fit of giggles followed by a long yawn, making me nuzzle my face deeper into his thighs. “I live here now,” I mumble, feeling myself beginning to doze off. 

”I believe it’s time to get you home and into bed,” he says softly. 

”No, I live here now.”

”I’ll take her,” Farkas says, and I feel myself get lifted up and cradled. 

I happily snuggle up to Farkas’ chest, the conscious part of my brain noting that he’s in a soft cotton shirt instead of his usual heavy armor. “Just kidding, I live _here_ now.”

”Alright, alright, let’s get you home.” 

The next thing I know, I’m gently laid down in bed. Farkas tenderly drapes my blanket over me. “I’m leaving this waterskin on your table here and a bucket in case you get sick.”

”Okie dokie, thank you. You sleep here so I cuddle,” I say with a groggy smile, sloppily patting the other side of my bed. 

Farkas is silent for a moment. “I should probably get back to Jorrvaskr....”

”Nooooo, you sleep here so I cuddle!” I whine. 

Another moment of silence. “Just for a minute, I guess.” 

The Companion crawls into bed next to me, and I wrap my arms around him and nestle my face into the crook of his neck. “Hooray.” 

Sleep comes for me soon after. 


	3. Let’s Get This Party Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘This party’ being the main questline and dragons and such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New friend time!  
> I told myself I wasn’t gonna bring him in this early, but how could I resist?

Farkas is gone when I wake up, along with my dignity. All that remains is a splitting migraine. Over the next few weeks, I see and hang out with the Companions often, and I’m thankful they don’t treat me any differently than before they saw me wasted for the first time.

And then one Fredas afternoon, Freya and I are resting in The Bannered Mare after a long hunt when I hear something that knocks me over the head with a heavy dose of reality. 

”Hear any good rumors lately, Hulda?”

”Sure. Heard there’s some Legion activity in Helgen. Lots of Stormcloak executions.”

”By the gods. I can’t wait for this war to end.”

My back stiffens. That’s my cue. “Freya, I gotta go.”

”What?” Freya asks, clearly confused. “What are you talking about?”

”I need to do something in Helgen. You wanna come with?”

”Why in Oblivion would you need to go to Helgen all of a sudden?”

”It’s...hard to explain. You coming?” 

She looks conflicted but then shakes her head. “I told Olfina I would spend time with her tonight. I’m sorry.”

"Don't worry about it, I understand. See you later."

"Annwyn, what's going on?"

"It's hard to explain," I repeat blankly. If I let out the slightest emotion, I'm gonna lose it. "I'll be back soon." Assuming I don't get killed.

I walk into Riverwood. No, not walk. Limp. I've killed plenty of wolves while hunting with Freya, but never alone, three against one. I still managed to kill them all, but not before taking a nasty bite to my calf. Before going further into town, I sit beside the river and peel my pant leg up so I can wash my wound and wrap it in cloth. It hurts like a bitch, but at least most of the beast's teeth didn't manage to break through my armor.

The sun still has a ways to go before setting. I can probably get to Helgen by nightfall, sleep there, and head back in the morning. But god, doing it alone.... Aha!

"Oy oy! Look at this fine lass here!"

The two drunkards outside of The Sleeping Giant Inn are even more obnoxious in person than in the game, but I tune them out the best I can. And there's Bishop, hooded eyes flickering to me. 

_Okay, listen here, you little shit. Bishop, in the game, is an asshole. This is not your 'fixed' fanfic Bishop. As delicious as he may be, you will_ not _give in to your wanton, hedonistic desires._

My internal speech leaves me only slightly confident in my ability to reign in my inner slut. All I have to do is go along with the dialogue to get him to follow me. I know it like the back of my hand, so it's not like that should be hard.

"I can take you to Karnwyr."

Cool. Very cool. Fucking nailed it.

I freeze at the top of the stairs, blown away by my own sheer lunacy. Bishop's eyes widen before narrowing back into a glare, and I see his hand shift to the hilt of his hunting knife. "Who are you," he says slowly, stalking towards me, "And how do you know about Karnwyr?"

"Okay, I supremely fucked that up," I mutter as I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Uhh...alright, I...can see the future?" Sure, that works.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Yeah, I know. Look, you wouldn't believe the truth even if I told you. What matters is that I know where he is, so do you want my help or not?"

I can see the conflict on his face before he says anything. "You didn't help take him, did you?"

"God, no. I just know where he is. It's a pit fighting ring in the Rift. Don't worry, he hasn't been put in the pit yet."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I already told you, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. You only trust yourself and your wolf, blah blah blah."

He runs a hand through his hair as he mulls it over. "Fine. But you turn on me, and you're dead. Got that, princess?"

"Duh," I say with an eyeroll. "We just need to take the road that goes through Helgen on the way. There's something I need to do. It'll literally only take a second, and it's not much of a detour anyways since it meets back up with the other road just a little further down."

Bishop rolls his eyes and begins down the steps. "You don't need to explain the roads to me, ladyship. Let's get a move on. It'll be dark soon, and I want to at least get to Helgen by sundown."

My limp is gone, thanks to a healing potion from Bishop, but I still spend our moderately short walk in mild pain from biting down firmly on my tongue. I evidently can't keep my mouth shut, and the temptation to divulge what I know to him as he pesters me with questions is too strong. Soon, though, I bite down not to stay silent, but as a weak attempt to quell the anxiety building in my chest.

Smoke is soon visible rising to the clouds. "That almost looks like it's coming from Helgen," Bishop remarks. The we round the corner, and Helgen's gate comes into view. "It _is_ coming from Helgen.... Nuh-uh, princess, we're going the other way," he says, grabbing my arm and trying to tug me away. 

"No, we can't! I have to do something!"

"Whatever you need to do can't happen if the whole town is burnt to a crisp, and staying alive is more important. Don't make me carry you, I'll do it."

I manage to squirm out of his grasp. "You go around and meet me on the other side if you're that set on it. I'm going this way," I say firmly. 

"Fine," he growls. "Have it your way."

Bishop storms off, and I set my sights back on Helgen. This is it, I guess.

The short walk seems to take an eternity until finally it happens. With a mighty flap, a great black dragon lifts above the destroyed town before flying over my head and into the mountains.

Alduin.

When he disappears, I continue forward and pull open the gate. My inner pyromaniac is delighted, but the sight of the burnt bodies sobers me up real fast. In a sort of trance, I glide towards the keep and to the specific body I need, gagging on the charcoal-like smell. The body disintegrates as I pull the journal from underneath it. 

"Annwyn!" 

"Bishop?"

Bishop appears from around the corner, glaring daggers at me. "What in Oblivion were you thinking? I _told_ you we should go the other way! You're lucky to still be alive! Why didn't you come back as soon as you saw that thing?"

Man, I really did do Bishop's personality some favors in the fanfic I wrote. "Alright, look. I get that you've got this edgy lone-wolf thing going for you, and it's hot enough, but _fuck_. I'm fine. I _knew_ I would be fine. I may not be much of a fighter, but I still know what the fuck I'm doing, so don't treat me like a fucking child. I just needed to see the dragon. I saw it. Now we can move on."

Bishop blinks at me, and I realize I said too much yet again. "You knew a dragon would attack Helgen?"

I shut my eyes tight to free myself from his stern gaze. "I...might've had an inkling?"

"Okay," he says calmly. "Forget your help. I'm not taking another step with you until you tell me what's going on."

"You won't-"

"Believe you? You're a terrible liar, princess. Tell me the truth, and I'll know."

I'm doubtful, but I nod towards the keep and lead him in, plopping on one of the beds. Hesitantly at first, I explain it all. Video games. The Elder Scrolls series, even mods. "That's how I knew about the dragon," I say, "And why I didn't start here to begin with. It's how I know where Karnwyr is, too. I've helped you get him back numerous times before. And I only downloaded your mod a few months ago, so that's saying something. You're one of my favorite...followers." No way in hell I'm telling him what kind of mod he's actually in. 

Several conflicting expressions pass over his face before he settles with a resigned sigh. "So...you're from from this other world where Skyrim is a... 'video' game? And through some crazy shit, you managed to end up here for real?"

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"And the dragon thing is part of the game?" I nod apprehensively. "So then what happens next?"

I bite my lip (and note how Bishop's eyes flicker to the movement and linger for a second). "Well...after we get Karnwyr, we need to go to Riverwood to warn them of the dragon. Then we're gonna go through Bleak Falls Barrow because there's something we're gonna need there, so it'll save time. Then we go to Whiterun to talk to the Jarl and...."

"And?"

"And...then we fight a dragon," I say with a deep breath.

Bishop snorts, making me blink in surprise. "Alright, I'm out. At least after we get to Whiterun. You may be a madwoman prepared to throw your life away for nothing, but I'd prefer staying alive."

I roll my eyes and lay on the bed, pulling the thin blanket over me. "That's fine by me," I mumble. The idea of- ahem- _being_ with Bishop was a fun prospect my first couple days in Skyrim, but the more I thought about it, the worse it sounded. I may have been able to tolerate his more unsavory traits when playing a game, but I began to suspect it would just annoy me in real life. The past several hours have proved me ninety percent right, and this isn't even the worst he gets. No, I'll gladly say goodbye once he gets me to Whiterun. 

A familiar man lays dead at my feet, his blood splattered over my face and body. "I'm impressed, princess. You're skills aren't anything special, but you held your own better than I thought you would." I stay silent as Bishop rummages through the man's pockets. 

I've never killed a person before. And honestly? What bothers me most is the fact that it didn't bother me all that much. But I guess that's a good thing considering where I live now. This is how Skyrim is. Kill or be killed. Oof.

"His name's Isidor," I tell Bishop. "He'll have a note on him from someone named Camilla telling him to meet her at some old cave in the Velothi Mountains." He fishes out the letter and nods as he scans its contents. "It's a horror mod. An _actual_ horror mod, not just a bunch of draugr and jump scares. Nothing in Skyrim ever scared me until that first dungeon. The rest of it was creepy enough, I guess, but not nearly as good as the first part."

"Good?" Bishop asks as we continue away from Helgen. "You think the scariest part is the best?"

"Fuck yeah, it is. I love scary stuff. We have these things called 'movies' in my world that are basically moving pictures that tell stories, and horror movies have always been my favorite, even when I was a kid."

Bishop raises an eyebrow at me. "Huh. Wouldn't have pegged you for the type of person that likes being scared. Although I guess you did voluntarily run towards a flaming town that you knew had a dragon in it. And you approached me, the brooding stranger," he says with a smirk.

"Pfft. Please, you're like a puppy to me. Not the big strong wolf you like to think you are," I say, pinching his cheek. He scowls and swats my hand away, and I loudly laugh. "A puppy with more bark than bite. Where I'm concerned, at least."

Before I know it, I'm being pushed up against a tree, my wrists pinned to my side, as Bishop leans into me with a deep growl. "I have plenty of bite, princess," he hisses in my ear, sending a chill down my back. "Don't for a second think otherwise."

Point made, he straightens and turns back to the road before doing a double take back at me. "You like being scared in other ways, too, I see," he says as he tilts up my chin to better study my wide eyes. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tease, smacking his hand away. 

Further down the road, I point out the castle looming above us, halfway up the Throat of the World. "Wanna know something that'll blow your mind?"

BIshop's brow furrows. "Please tell me that's just a figure of speech."

"Yeah, it means it'll shock you."

"Okay then, sure."

"That castle's mine."

Bishop freezes in place, eyes shifting quickly between me and the structure. "Wha- you? How? Why?"

"Mods," I say between wheezing laughs. "It's called Sjel Blad Castle. It's a player home."

"'Mods,'" he huffs. "You and your damn 'mods'. Me, castles, alternate starts. What's next? A whole harem to lick your boots?"

"Sadly, no," I _sigh._ "I had Harem- Volume 2 but got rid of it because it was too un-immersive. As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm deeply regretting that decision now that I am physically here."

"There _is_ a harem mod? There must be a mod for everything...."

"Pretty much. Don't go in that cave unless you're prepared to fight a fuck ton of vampires, by the way," I say with a nod towards Haemar's Shame as we pass. "If you ever somehow go to Earth and play Skyrim, stay away from Lover's Lab unless you wanna be scarred for life. Or if you're into some twisted shit. Then go ahead and go there I guess."

"Come on, boy, where's your dignity?" Bishop frowns down at Karnwyr, who's excitedly licking my face as I sit curled up on my bed roll, giggling like a child. "Okay, seriously, you mutt, up. I wanna talk to her." 

Karnwyr obeys and trots over to chew on the arm of a dead gambler. "Ugh, killjoy," I mutter, already missing the puppy kisses. "What's up?"

Bishop sighs heavily and settles down in front of me. "I wanted to say...thank you. For helping me get Karnwyr back. And for telling me about where you're from. You're right about it sounding crazy, so I'm sure it wasn't easy for you to admit."

"Eh. It felt good to get it off of my chest, honestly. But you're welcome. And I appreciate you being willing to take me through Bleak Falls Barrow and back to Whiterun."

"Right," he says slowly. "So...after you fight the dragon there...what will you do next?"

"Well, I'll have to go see the Greybeards eventually, but I probably won't do it right away. I'm not exactly in a rush to fight fuckin' Alduin. I was thinking I'll sta-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _What?"_

"Oh. Ha. Yeah, if this plays out exactly like the game, which so far it has except for when I go off track, then I'm the Dragonborn and will have to defeat Alduin before he, ya know, eats the world."

Bishop stares at me, mouth gaping. "You? _Dragonborn_? You wouldn't last a minute fighting a dragon! And even if you could...no, it's too dangerous, you'll get yourself killed."

He's right. Even I have to admit it. There's no way in hell I'd be a match for a dragon. But fuck, does it still piss me off for him to say it. "It's not like you're sticking around anyways," I huff, "So it's not your problem. And even if you _did_ stick around, it wouldn't be your problem! Because even if you _weren't_ going to leave me in Whiterun, even if we travelled together, even if we became friends or more, you won't be there when it matters most."

My words hang in the air around us as we both look at the other in shock. I just can't keep my dumb mouth shut, can I? "Look," I say, measuring my words more carefully, "I don't want to be Dragonborn. Simply existing in Skyrim is plenty for me. It's just the way it is. Let's get some sleep. I'm exhausted."

I lay down in my bedroll and pull the covers over my head, a habit from my childhood that never died. I'm just starting to drift off when Bishop softly whispers, "Annwyn?"

"Hm?"

"What do you mean I won't be there when you need me most? Is there more that happens with me in the game besides getting Karnwyr back?" Welp, I sure fucked that up again. "If it has to do with me, I have the right to know."

I groan and roll onto my back. "Well...nothing, if we part ways for good in Whiterun."

"And if we don't?"

"What does it matter? You've insisted we will." 

"Tell me anyways."

I consider how much I'm willing to divulge, my eyes glued to the ceiling. "The thing I was referring to is that, when it's time for me to fight Alduin in Sovngarde, you leave. You care more about your own life. Which is totally fair, except...."

"Except?"

"Except...at that point, depending on how long we've travelled together and where to, there's a decent chance you've already told me that you love me and will always protect me."

When Bishop finally responds, his usually firm voice has the slightest of trembles. "Did...did you get good at lying in the past day?"

"What do you think?" I say flatly. Then a grin slowly spreads across my face. "The, uh...the name of your mod is actually...Skyrim Romance Mod."

Bishop chokes, and I burst into giggles. "That's just ridiculous! No way!" 

"It's true, I swear! The mod adds a bunch of guys that all wanna bone me. But you, sir, are the main feature."

I keep laughing, and Karnwyr comes over to lay his shaggy head on my belly. "Well...well, whatever," Bishop says. "This isn't a game. I don't trust or care about anyone but myself and Karnwyr, and we're splitting up in Whiterun, anyways. You can bone one of the other guys. I couldn't care less."

"Fine by me," I say with a playful smile, feeling a tug of deja vu. "You're kind of a douche anyways. The first time you say you love me, you finish it by calling me a 'stupid woman.'"

I look at Bishop finally and see him glaring down at the ground. "Yeah, that sounds like something I'd do," he mutters, resigned, before laying down and calling Karnwyr to him. 

I almost think I'm imagining it when I see him give me a soft smile before turning the other way.


	4. Mary Sue, More or Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently being the Dragonborn makes me qualified to actually be a Companion, so that's cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s only been a couple of days since the last update, but I’m on Winter Break and figured, fuck it lol

"This is nice and all, but why stay here when you have a literal castle?"

"Convenience, I guess. Plus I don't really want to use Sjel Blad right now because owning a castle at this point in my life in Skyrim feels like cheating."

Bishop drops into an armchair in Breezehome and moans. "I guess this place is nice enough too."

"Thank Helixien," I say, unpacking my loot into a safe. "Vanilla Breezehome is peasant shit."

"'Vanilla' meaning?"

"Un-modded. I have a mod that overhauls this whole home, which is why it's as nice as it is." I put a nice hunk of venison on a plate and leave it for Karnwyr, who happily trots over and digs in. "Come on. You can sleep in Lydia's room since I don't have her yet." 

Bishop scowls at me when I ruffle his hair to rouse him from his relaxed state. "I swear you're just making up names now to drive home the point that you know so much that I don't."

I snort as I lead him up the stairs. "Lydia's the Housecarl I'll get after fighting the dragon. Her room's pretty small, but it's only for tonight, so I hope you don't mind."

"I don't. Your home beats an inn any day. You've got drinks, right?"

"Plenty," I say, patting his cheek. "I'll show you where."

We spend the night drinking and talking, and...it's actually really pleasant. Bishop manages to drop his usual vigilance and relax. It would seem he's also finally gotten the hint that I'm not interested in anything with him other than friendship, so all efforts on that front have ceased for the time being. Aside from the occasional innuendo, at least, which I don't mind. I'm actually fairly disappointed to say goodbye to him when we wake the next morning. 

"If you ever take a break from the dragon shit, maybe we can meet up again," he says cautiously as we stand outside my door.

"I'd like that. When I'm not out and about, I'll be here in Whiterun, so...you know...you can stop by sometime. If you want, I mean."

He chuckles softly and brings my knuckles to his lips. "Careful, princess. You almost sound like you _want_ me around."

"I plead the fifth. Be safe, Bishop." Before he can protest, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. He stiffens at my touch, but slowly relaxes, even putting an arm around me as well. "See, I told you you're a puppy," I whisper in his ear with a giggle. 

"You still haven't felt my bite," he mutters back before lightly nipping at my earlobe with his teeth. I jump out of his embrace and smack his arm, ignoring his laughter.

"Jerk," I say, laughing too. "Be safe," I repeat as he starts towards the gate. 

"You too, princess."

"Annwyn! You've been gone for days! What happened?"

"Can't talk right now, Freya, I'm sorry," I call from Irileth's side. "We gotta go kill a dragon!"

Irileth rolls her eyes. "Would it be too much to ask that you keep your voice down? We're not trying to terrify the entire city." 

"Right, sorry." 

As she finishes her speech to the guards, Freya and several other Companions bound towards us. "We heard about the dragon," Farkas says.

"Couldn't turn down a fight like this," Aela adds.

"Excellent. The more people we have, the better. Let's move out."

And that's how I end up here. Face to face with Mirmulnir. Frozen in fear and awe. About to get my face blasted off.

Until I'm shoved out of the way and to the ground. "Where's your survival instinct, princess?" 

Such shocking. Much surprise. Wow.

"Couldn't seem to stay away, I see," I say with a grin as Bishop stands and pulls me to my feet. The fire breath meant for me instead left a scorched guard behind where I was. Oops.

"And lucky for you, otherwise you'd be fried right now," Bishop says, firing arrow after arrow at the dragon as it swoops by.

The beast's wings falter as they take more and more hits, until it crashes to the ground. Weakly, it stands and looks at me before opening its gaping mouth, flames building deep in its throat, only for the flames to be extinguished with a roar when Bishop and I both lodge arrows into its open mouth."

"Thank fuck," I groan, collapsing next to the corpse as its scales begin to flake off and disintegrate.

"Everybody, get back!"

"Annwyn, move!"

Bishop extends a hand to me, and I swat it away. "It's _fine_."

Evidently tired of my shit, he resorts to picking me up and carrying me away from the burning dragon body. "Full offense, but I'm not trusting you to keep yourself alive anymore."

It doesn't matter though. The flow of energy from the dragon soul rushes towards me all the same, nearly making Bishop drop me in shock. I can't quite express how it feels. That level of power and strength, and not just in a physical way. My mind feels clearer than it's felt...well, ever.

My eyes meet Bishop's golden and wide, and I grin at his speechless reaction. I had almost forgotten he's still carrying me until he lifts me higher and leans in. The shock of him going off-script paralyzes me, but he, as it turns out, is _not_ going off-script. Instead of kissing me like I thought, he simply rests his forehead against mine, takes one deep breath, and then promptly puts me down, looking as confused as I feel.

"I can't believe it. You're...Dragonborn."

"Damn right, I am," I say to the approaching guard after shaking off my surprise. " _FUS_!" I shout at the skeletal remains of the dragon, as is my in-game custom. "Nice. Let's get going," I say, grabbing Bishop's arm. "This dialogue gets boring after hearing it a million times."

"To the Dragonborn!"

"CHEERS!"

Everyone raises their bottles at the Vilkas' toast, even the cold Njada, and I sink lower in my seat to hide my crimson cheeks. "Come now, don't be shy," Kodlak says quietly, coming up behind me. "Annwyn, since you've arrived in Whiterun, you've shown such a strong spirit. You may not be the best warrior, but you have improved much and have a willingness to learn, and that's what matters." Louder, he says, "I think I speak for all those in this mead hall when I say we would be honored to have the Dragonborn within the ranks of the Companions!" 

More cheers follow, and I look down to hide my damp eyes. "Yeah, sure, okay," I mumble with a nod, trying to contain the ecstasy I feel. The Companions merge to surround me, some patting me on the back, some clinking their bottles to mine, all with big smiles and words of welcoming. 

And in the corner of the room, I see Bishop, leaning against the wall in the shadows, eyes furrowed as if lost in thought. I've rarely seen him with his guard down, and never around so many people. I wonder what's managed to capture that much of his attention.

"Looks like you've found that adventure," Vilkas says brightly as he settles into the seat beside mine while Tilma and Brill set out dinner.

"Sure looks that way. This is Lydia, by the way," I say, gesturing to my Housecarl on my other side. "Lydia, this is Vilkas."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lydia. You best take care of this one. She's a troublemaker," Vilkas says and nudges my shoulder with his.

The blush that's been on my face all afternoon deepens, and the corner of Lydia's lip quirks up at my reaction. "I'll do my best. It truly is an honor to be serving the Dragonborn."

"Oh my god, stop," I groan, covering my face with my hands. "I can't take this much ass-kissery in such a short time."

"Annwyn." 

Bishop's smooth voice in my ear makes me jump out of my skin. "Hey, what's up, Bishop? You gonna eat?"

"No, uh...I'm not feeling well. Is it alright if I go back to your place for the night?"

"Oh! Of course," I say, fishing out my key for him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Alright, well I hope you feel better. Oh, since we have Lydia now...ah, you can sleep in my bed. I'm smaller and sleep all curled up, so I'll sleep in one of the kid beds."

His brows narrow in even deeper. "No, ladyship, you don't ha-"

"Nope. Shut up, it's already decided. Go rest, Bishop, I'll be home later."

Bishop leaves the mead hall with his head bowed. That was...new.

"So, uh...is that your...?" Vilkas starts.

"Friend," I say quickly before taking a large gulp from my second ale. 

"Is that according to you or according to him?"

"According to both of us. Well, me, but...." But how am I supposed to know if he _actually_ likes me or if he just does because that's how the mod goes? Yikes, I was not prepared for my brain to hit me with that shit. "But, I mean, probably both of us, you know, I can't speak for him or whatever, I don't know," I finish to Vilkas. 

Vilkas chuckles and hesitantly raises a hand to swipe a strand of hair from my face. "There you go rambling again. That's how I know when the drinks have hit you."

"A pretty accurate gauge," I say. "Even when I'm sober, I don't know when to shut the fuck up half the time. I'm sorry I'm so obnoxious."

"You're not obnoxious at all," Farkas joins in as he takes up the seat beside Lydia. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because I don't know when to shut the fuck up," I whine, leaning into Vilkas. 

"Thank you for always taking me home, Farkas. You're a himbo, and I love you," I mumble into his chest as he carries me through my front door.

"My pleasure, Ann. I like these walks with you." He carefully lays me down in my bed. "Bucket. Water. You're all set."

"Waaaaiiit, I-"

"I know, I know. Just for a minute though." Farkas has become accustomed to my need for cuddles when I'm drunk and sleepy, and for that, I appreciate the fuck outta him.

After several minutes, he slowly peels my hand off of his chest and inches his arm out from under me. "'Night, Annwyn," he whispers.

"Night night."

I hear him shut the front door as he exits, and just as I'm about to doze off, I suddenly bolt upright. "That goddamn cocksucker. Bishop!" I throw the blankets off of me and storm into the children's room where I find Bishop, wide awake and curled up on a bed half his size. "Get the fuck up," I say, pulling on his arm. "You're coming to my bed."

"No."

"Ughh, stop being a drama queen and just come on. You won't be able to sleep in that bed anyways." He sighs and allows himself to be led to my room. 

Ever so tenderly, I cover him in my blanket and pat his head as he watches me incredulously, before I crawl in beside him. “I...aren’t you going to sleep in the other room?”

”I’m too sleepsies to care,” I mumble, nuzzling my forehead against his shoulder.

”Annwyn?”

”Hmmm?”

”Are you drunk?”

”No! Maybe.”

Bishop stays silent, and we slowly fade to sleep. 

“Are you sure you want to be a Companion? This is a stupid amount of walking. And have you seen the way those brothers look at you? They’re like wolves looking for their next meal.”

I snort. “You’re one to talk. And the walk to Windhelm isn’t that bad. Plus, we get to pass by the Abandoned Prison!” 

”And that’s thrilling to you because...?”

”Shh! Another deer,” I whisper, crouching down and pulling out my bow. 

Bishop crouches down beside me, leveling his sight with mine. “Alright, he’s pretty far, so make sure you aim high.” I adjust my aim, and he gently places his hand under my arm to help. “Perfect.” 

My fingers release the shot, and the arrow buries itself into the deer’s ribs. “Ha, got ‘em!” 

”Nice job, princess,” Bishop says with a soft smile.

We follow the White River until it becomes a waterfall just before reaching the flooded prison. At the bottom of the fall, Bishop helps me wade across the freezing stretch of water without getting pulled under, and we cautiously enter the ruins. “Any enemies here?” He whispers.

”A Thalmor soldier a couple halls down and a Justiciar at the very end.” 

”Thalmor? What in Oblivion have you gotten me into now?”

”We gotta help someone. Shush.”

Bishop sneaks halfway down the steps and takes out the soldier with a single arrow to the neck. “But _why_? We’ve got our own problems. You’re gonna throw your life away running around doing things for other people.”

”This guy’s important. He’s OP as fuck- overpowered, I mean. And he...well, I don’t want to give away his story. He doesn’t even know it yet. But he’s a perfect bodyguard for a bitch of a Dragonborn like me,” I explain as I fish the Tarnished Shard and Shard Note out of a chest added by Relics of Hyrule. 

”So what, my skill means nothing to you?”

I stand and look at Bishop, who looks genuinely hurt. “It’s not like that, Bishop,” I say quietly.

”That’s what it sounds like,” he huffs. “You don’t need this guy. I’m perfectly capable of protecting you myself.”

”Until you’re not willing to.” The words leave my mouth before I think them through, and Bishop frowns but says nothing. “Look. I really love that you’re still willing to travel with me. And like I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you. If you want to stay, great. If you want to leave, then I understand. But if you do decide to leave, at any given point, I don’t want to be left high and dry being as inexperienced as I am. Besides, I couldn’t pass by this place and do nothing, knowing he’s being tortured inside by the most evil fucks in Tamriel.”

Bishop slowly nods. “Fine. I understand.”

Creeping along the dank corridor, he comes into view. Kaidan. Shirtless and chained to the wall.

Cool it, loins. 

“‘Important’, was it?” Bishop whispers scathingly.

I ignore him and grab the key to the cells from a table before going to unlock it.

”When I get out of here, I’ll kill you all myself,” Kaidan seethes as we approach.

”Hush, Kai, we’re here to help,” I say, releasing the chains that held his arms.

”You...how do you know my name?”

”She knows everything. You get used to it,” Bishop says while I pass Kaidan a healing potion.

”Thanks, Bishop,” I mutter. “Well, no point covering it up. Let’s go get your sword.”

Disoriented but always ready for a fight, Kaidan follows Bishop who follows me to the next block of cells and down the final hall. Between the three of us, the Justiciar didn’t stand a chance. He hits me in the stomach with Sparks, but the electrifying pain lasts only a moment before Kaidan interrupts the flow with a powerful punch and Bishop finishes him with a deep stab in the neck. 

As Kaidan equips his armor, Bishop pesters me with demands to take a healing potion, which I eventually yield to.

”I can’t thank you enough. I know you didn’t have to help me,” Kaidan says. “Listen. I owe you my life, and I’m not a man who’s comfortable being in debt. If you have need of me, I’d be glad to fight alongside you until that debt is repaid.” 

”Hell yeah, new friend!” I hold up my hand to high-five Bishop, who just raises a brow at me in confusion. “You gotta hit it.” He lightly smacks the side of my hand. “Close enough. We’ll work on it. Fuck yeah, you can travel with us,” I tell Kaidan excitedly.

He smiles slightly as he places a fist to his chest. “I am your sword and shield.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new friend! I love Kaidan even more than I love Bishop, so boy am I excited for this.


End file.
